


The Robots of Maureen Miller

by AlwaysAmused



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Deaths Only, Concussions, Davenport throws D O W N with a robot, F/F, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hey who wants some Carey/Killian?, In this house we respect Maureen Miller even though she made a robot that only screams, Is that a knife-wielding tentacle reference?, Killer robots Kind Of, Lucretia is kind of a mess and that's Okay, Maureen's dead y'all, Mother-Son Relationship, Robots, WHY YES IT IS, We already knew that but??? just wanted to like brace y'all, anti-gravity chambers, crying robots, dav gets a little beat up I'M SORRY, trick question the answer is who DOESN'T, voidfish shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-10 11:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15948089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysAmused/pseuds/AlwaysAmused
Summary: Dr. Maureen Miller is a brilliant scientist and engineer, but occasionally her friends wish her inventions weren’t so bizarre. And life threatening. Welcome to “five times Maureen almost killed someone with a robot, and one time she didn’t.”(This is everqueen's fault.)





	1. Lucretia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [everqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/everqueen/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow first day on the Taz Fanwriter's discord and I write a Thing instead of doing homework. Thanks y'all.
> 
> I don't own TAZ.

Lucretia had had a long day. A lot went into a day when you were trying to start a secret organization, while also trying to build a secret moonbase, while trying to keep said secrets from literally everyone in the world.

So it was rational to say that Lucretia was not on high-alert. That was perhaps her first mistake; one should _never_ walk into Maureen Miller’s lab without being on high-alert.

 _Never_.

When Lucretia walked into the lab, she was immediately assaulted by a high-pitched _scream_ , like metal of metal, and then a lot of things happened at once.

One: Lucretia screamed and flung her staff forward.

Two: she didn’t have the present mind to _bring up a bubble_ , but instead _threw her staff at the robot_.

Three: this did _nothing_ to stop the screaming. Now staffless, Lucretia put her hands over her ears and tried to cast _Silence_.

Four: Somehow, a bubble of protection had wrapped around the screaming robot, and so she silenced everything _except the robot_.

Lucretia finally had the wisdom to leave the lab. The moment the port closed behind her, the screaming stopped. She didn’t remove her hands from her ears, and instead leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, waiting for the adrenaline to stop pumping through her veins. She was shaking, and her _teeth_ hurt from the pitch of the robot.

She was absolutely going to _kill_ Maureen Miller. Or, at the very least, give her a very cold look and be displeased with her for the rest of the evening. She knew Maureen would immediately apologize and feel terrible about the whole ordeal. Lucretia _also_ knew that this was not the first time something like this had happened, and it was likely not the last time it ever would.

Before Lucretia readied herself to go back into the lab to retrieve her staff, she heard a small voice say, “Lucretia? Are you okay?” Lucretia opened her eyes and turned.

Lucas was standing in the doorway, hair disheveled and glasses crooked on his nose. He looked as if he had just woken up but was still dressed and carrying a textbook. Lucretia straightened herself and gave Lucas a small smile.

“Everything is fine,” she said. “Go to bed, I’m sure it’s past your bedtime.”

Lucas frowned at her and pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’m thirteen! And you’re not my mom!” He protested but moved towards the port that led towards his bedroom anyway. Once he was gone, Lucretia turned back towards the lab. She took a deep breath, smoothed the front of her robes, and went back in.


	2. Davenport

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow two chapters in one night, if only I could be this productive whilst doing homework!!!

Look.

It wasn’t that Davenport was stupid. He _wasn’t_ , even if he was positive people saw him as a simpleton. Maybe his wisdom stat wasn’t the best, but he liked to think he was an intelligent person. Maybe his self-control wasn’t the best though, and maybe he _sometimes_ let his emotions get the better of him. But he needed to find Her, what was her name again?, and this _stupid robot_ wouldn’t let him in without a command word.

Okay, so maybe he shouldn’t have punched the robot, but to his defense, most robots couldn’t take offense and _punch back_.

Davenport had to admit to himself though, it had been a while since he’d been in a fight, ~~when was the last time? Was there a last time? He was sure there had been, but he couldn’t _quite remember_ -~~ Well.

When the robot had punched Davenport, he only stared at it, stunned, and muttered, “Davenport?” in bewilderment.

**“Please say a command.”**

“Davenport,” he said firmly and stood up again, agitated and brushing himself off.

**“Please say a command.”**

“ _Davenport_ ,” he tried again. Please for the love of Pan. ~~Why Pan?~~ Davenport shook his head. “Daven. Port,” he tried, slowing down just in case the robot didn’t understand.

**“Please say a-”**

Davenport huffed in frustration and crossed his arms before kicking at the robot.

Look, Davenport wasn’t a stupid gnome, but he never claimed to be a _wise_ one. If he were wise, he should have expected the robot to kick him back. And to his credit, even if he did expect the robot to kick him back, he never could have predicted that it would _punt him across the room_.

He shrieked and hit the opposite wall with a thud, and when the white dots stopped spinning in front of his eyes, he stood back up and glared at the offending robot.

**“Please say a command.”**

Oh, it was fucking _on_. Davenport charged at the robot and tackled it to the ground. Or, he tried to; it was sturdier than he thought it would be, but he clung onto it as it tried to throw him off, tail wrapping around the bastard’s foot. The robot made a whirring noise and started flailing around, even as Davenport nimbly climbed up its metal frame, bashing his fists into its head as he sat upon its shoulders.

The robot waved its arm-appendages, trying desperately to hit Davenport before it simply… froze. And then it bent forward. Davenport had exactly zero time to react before his own head smacked the ground. Only one second before the floor smacked him again, and before the robot could semi-suplex him again, he shimmied down to its waist and punched it until it was thrown off balance.

Smoke started coming from the robot. **“Please say a co-o-ommmmmm-a-aa-a-a-a-a-a-”**

“ _Davenport_!” Davenport shrieked and pulled at the robot’s arm, even as the arm started whirring around, trying to get Davenport to let go. There was a _snap_ as the arm itself came off, and Davenport smacked the robot with its arm, “Da-ven- _port_! Da-ven- _port_!” He shouted in triumph.

When the robot stopped moving, save the occasional twitch as wires sparked, Davenport fell back onto the ground, panting. The robot’s arm was still clutched in his hand, and he looked down at it, absently wiping a little blood from his lip. He’d yanked the arm right off of it, he thought with some amusement, just like- like. Hm.

Davenport. Right, he was _Davenport_ , and he’d been looking for _Her_. He was sure Her name started with a letter that happened to be near the letter J, but that didn’t seem right. K, maybe? That didn’t seem right either.

He looked down at his hands and was surprised to see the robot’s arm. Huh.

“Davenport?” He heard, and _Oh, that’s me,_ he thought as warmth and recognition spread through him. He stood to attention and turned and, _there she was_. She looked worried though, face drawn into a frown as She knelt down to be on his level, placing her staff beside her. “Davenport, what happened? We heard noises and- What in Pan’s name…?” She looked past him at the smoldering robot.

“Davenport,” he replied happily, brandishing the robot’s arm. It still reminded him vaguely of something, and She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oh damn,” said another voice, and Davenport looked to see Maureen standing in the doorway, headscarf hastily thrown over her hair, eyeing her robot in an expression somewhere between horror and impressed. “Did _he_ do that?”

“Yes, I think so,” She said with a sigh, and stood. “Sorry, Maureen. You know how he gets.”

Maureen waved away the apologies from Her, walking over in a few long strides to kneel down by the robot, tying her headscarf on more securely before gathering the pieces in her arm. “No worries, ‘Creesh,” she said. That wasn’t Her name, was it? It was familiar, Davenport thought, but not _too_ familiar, and- Who had ripped the arm off that robot? Had that been him? Why was he still holding it? ~~He should give it to-~~

Hm. She was talking again, and Davenport blinked a couple of times. Had She been talking to him?

“Are you alright?” She asked, back to kneeling next to him, a hand placed gently on his shoulder.

“You should see the other guy,” Davenport replied promptly, hands on his hips, and Maureen barked out a laugh. _She_ seemed a little exasperated, but the corners of her lips smiled.

“Alright, alright,” She said, and stood. “Come on, Davenport. Give Maureen that arm back and let’s get you cleaned up.”

The arm? Davenport looked down. Oh, the robot arm. He handed it to Maureen— ~~someone else should have it, he thought, this felt weird~~ —and swayed a little before She called his name again.

“Davenport?” He replied, looking back at Her. She held out her hand to him and he smiled, jogging forward to take her hand, allowing her to lead him away.

He only had the vague thought that he should have kept the robot arm for-

~~_For M-_ ~~

But then, Maureen had already taken it, hadn't she? Right. Davenport was satisfied enough with this, and so, he simply squeezed Her hand and followed Her out and away.


	3. Killian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for some Carey/Killian????

Killian enjoyed working for the Bureau of Balance. She liked that her boss was stern but understanding and accepting. She liked the Director’s ward, Davenport, who seemed habitually confused, but was overall pleasant to be around. She liked the other members of her team, Boyland and Captain Bain, both of them as rough as she was. She liked their little temporary base at the Millers’ Lab, and she liked the Millers, even if Lucas seemed like a shithead sometimes. Whatever, he was like twelve.

Recently though, Killian had found something else she rather liked, at that something was the little blue Dragonborn rogue who had been inoculated into the Bureau. Killian didn’t know what her name was yet; she hadn’t even officially _met_ her, but according to Boyland and Bain, she seemed very nice.

Unfortunately, every time Killian got close to meeting this new rogue, she freaked out and ended up going somewhere else. Apparently, Killian hadn’t been as subtle about this as she’d thought.

“So what’s your deal with the newbie?” Boyland asked when they took a break from training, passing her a glass of water. Killian shrugged.

“No deal,” Killian said as she finished wiping her face with a towel, taking the glass from him. “Just haven’t met her yet.”

“You’re _avoiding_ her,” Boyland said, digging into his pocket for a cigar and a fantasy lighter.

Killian frowned. “I am not.”

Boyland snorted, took a drag on his cigar and blew out a puff of smoke. “Could’a fooled me. Honestly, you’re the only one Carey hasn’t met yet.”

 _Carey_. It was a nice name, Killian thought as she downed her water. She mused over this and didn’t notice for a few minutes that Boyland was watching her. Intently. When she did finally notice, she frowned. “What? What’s that look about?”

Boyland, apparently finding whatever he was looking for in her, grinned. “Oh, I know what’s up,” he said.

“There’s nothing ‘up’!”

Boyland barked out a laugh. “Kid, I’ve been married twenty-seven times. I know what an infatuation is.”

Killian spluttered. “I- What? I haven’t even _met her_ yet!”

But Boyland wasn’t listening anymore. He leaned against the wall and chewed on his cigar, looking thoughtful. “You’d better meet her soon, Killy. She _is_ pretty cute.”

Killian chucked her sweat-sodden towel at his head. She didn’t miss.

* * *

When someone entered the Bureau of Balance, they were given a little pamphlet of guidelines for the Miller’s laboratory. Killian had not actually read this pamphlet. If she had, she would have seen the large bolded text that read **DO NOT WANDER THE MILLER’S LAB UNNATTENDED**.

Alas. It was one of Killian’s favorite past-times. There was really no telling what you would find in the weird floating lab. There was a garden where fruits and vegetables and herbs grew, a lab dedicated entirely to studying minerals, and several labs filled with various robotic parts.

There was also an anti-gravity chamber, and if asked, Killian would have said it was her _favorite room_. The training room was only her second favorite. She was in there quite often, bouncing off the walls. You never knew when being used to anti-gravity would come in handy. Maureen didn’t use it all that often nowadays, and so it was sort of a surprise when Killian saw a fish-like robot paddling through the anti-gravity chamber, multiple fins on each side. It had no eyes, but two long tentacle-like sensors, and its machinery hummed.

 _Weird,_ Killian thought, and mostly ignored it as she bounced around the room. She was quite good at getting used to the sensation of anti-gravity now.

What she _wasn’t_ used to was having to keep balance while in an anti-gravity environment, and Fate decided it was time to mix things up. There was a flashing green light, and Killian glanced around, frowning, until a serene robotic voice said, **“Activating tornado environment.”**

“What?” Killian said, and the room around her shifted a little, a large fan at the top of the chamber started moving, and Killian yelped as, moments later, she was thrown back against the wall.

The fish-robot-thing had, at that moment, finally decided to acknowledge her presence. It didn’t seem to like her. Huh, she hadn’t noticed that it had a mouth before.

Wow it had some pretty sharp teeth there.

Fuck.

Killian swerved out of the way as best she could, only to get caught up in the wind current. The fish immediately switched directions and continued after her. Killian kicked it as best she could, and called out for help, “Somebody stop this fucking thing!”

A moment later, the whirlwind had stopped, but the fish was practically on top of her now. Killian pushed it away with her arms as it opened its mouth and snapped at her.

The port opened from somewhere under Killian, but she couldn’t see who it was. She only heard an unfamiliar voice call, “Hold on, I’ll be right there!”

Another few seconds, and someone had jumped up and was perched on top of the robot, knives flashing and metal screeching until the sensors went limp and the now-motionless fish robot floated away.

Floating in the air, looking rather bewildered and amused, was a little blue dragonborn. Killian suddenly wished she was still fighting the robot.

“Are you okay?” The dragonborn—Carey, her name was _Carey_ —asked. “I heard you call for help. Did it bite you?”

“Uh,” Killian said. “No, I’m good. Let’s get out of here?”

“Stellar,” Carey said, grinning, and led the way out of the chamber. “I’m Carey by the way, Carey Fangbattle. I just joined up, Brian brought me in.”

“Hello,” Killian said. A few seconds passed before she realized she should introduce herself. “Oh! Hey, um. I’m Killian. And! Thanks for the help back there. Super appreciated.”

Carey brightened. “Oh, _you’re_ Killian! Boyland’s told me a lot about you, I was wondering when we were going to meet.”

“Yeah,” Killian said. She felt like an idiot as she followed Carey down the hall. Carey didn’t seem to notice though, and just kept talking. She seemed nice, Killian thought.

“Well, it’s getting pretty late,” Carey said after a while. “I’m gonna turn in. Hey! Maybe we could do some training tomorrow? Bain says you’ve got some pretty sweet moves!”

Killian perked up at that. “Oh yeah, no problem! Um, noon good for you?”

Carey smiled. “That works. Well, see you around!”

Killian watched as Carey moved away, seeming to melt into the shadows rather than walk into them. She stared after Carey for a few minutes, a smile creeping onto her face and she did a silent fistpump before hurrying back to her room.

She didn’t stop smiling the whole way.


	4. Johann

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sue me, I like screaming robots that cause mayhem.

It wasn’t that Johann _didn’t_ like robots, he just…

Okay fine, he didn’t like robots. Sue him. He was a simple man with simple wants and needs, and it was totally _not his fault_ that he had made a robot cry. He didn’t even know robots _could_ cry! He had been going about his job, composing a piece for the Voidfish, and then the robot—it was more of a floating table with a face than anything. Why were the Millers so seemingly obsessed with making sentient mechanical things with faces?—had started _bawling_.

Johann was fairly certain that robots, weren’t supposed to cry either, because he couldn’t identify the fluid coming out of its… eyes? Did robots have eyes? It was coming from under a visor-like thing on the robot’s face, towards the base of the table. Johann was a bard, not a mechanic.

…But, he thought, pondering what to do, he did _know_ a mechanic. Like hell did he want to admit to Maureen that she had broken her robot (he didn’t know her that well, and all things said, he was still fairly _new_ to the Bureau). But mechanics could fix robots, right? That’s how that worked, right?

There was one way to find out. Johann put his violin away, took the notebooks from the now heavily-sobbing robot, and then picked up the robot. It was only about the size of an end-table; not terribly heavy, but a little awkward to carry. Its fluid was trailing along the floor, and, okay, now it was starting to seep into his shoes.

This was how Johann found out that the robot “tears” were slippery: he stepped into a puddle of the green stuff, moved a little too quickly, stumbled, tried to catch himself, tripped, and fell down the stairs with a shriek.

He landed on his back, his head smacking against the floor _hard_ , and for what seemed like quite a long time, the world moved in slow motion. The table was, understandably, unhappy with falling down the stairs, and had started to wail louder.

“Oh my gods,” Johann groaned out loud, closing his eyes. He felt something wet seeping into his clothes. If he had to describe the texture, he would have said it felt a lot like having weird green fantasy silicone-based lube covering more of him than he thought would have been possible. The noise the robot was making was more annoying than a small child poking you repeatedly in the side while a high-pitched dog wouldn’t. stop. barking.

Except it was a table that was crying. Johan groaned, then stopped when his head throbbed in protest. “Please, just _stop crying_ ,” he said. The robot did _not_ , in fact, stop crying. If anything, it cried even harder, its wail getting higher and higher in pitch until it just- stopped.

Johann eventually sat himself up. His hat had fallen off somewhere. He sighed, his head still throbbing dully; he should probably find a healer. He found his hat a little ways away, covered in green slime. He picked it up and got to his feet, stumbling a little bit. He should _really_ go find a healer.

Instead, he peered down at the robot. Going by the “tears,” it was still crying, but its mouth was open in silent wails. With a sigh of relief, Johann pushed his hat back up and stood, taking the robot up once again and carrying it to the mechanic’s station.

Avi was sitting at a workbench, his back towards Johann whilst Davenport—sitting beside him—played with some spare gears and wire. When Johann walked in, Davenport glanced up, his eyes going wide as he gave a panicked, “ _Davenport_!” And hopped off the workbench to hurry over.

“Hey,” Johann said as Avi turned. The curiosity in Avi’s eyes turned to confusion, then horror.

“ _Daven_ port?” Davenport demanded, looking up at Johann sternly.

“I’m fine,” Johann replied, putting the table down and then leaning against it. “Okay, I _might_ have fallen down the stairs on my way here and given myself a concussion-”

“Davenport!” Davenport hurried from the room and Johann and Avi watched him go. When he was gone, Avi turned.

“So… What the fuck?”

“I honestly have no fucking idea,” Johann said, putting his face in his hands “Look, I was composing some music, and then suddenly it just started- crying? I think? _Anyway_ ,” he looked over to where Avi was standing, arms crossed with an irritatingly bemused expression on his face. “Can you fix it?”

Avi’s gaze moved from the table to Johann. He shook his head in disbelief, huffing out a laugh. “Johann, I’m a mechanic, but I have no ideas how… _this_ works. It’ll be better to give it back to Maureen and tell her what happened. But, like, I can do that if you wanna go get cleaned up and stuff. I won’t tell her it was you who broke it if you don’t want me to.”

Johann was sorely tempted to take the offer. He was weirdly slick, he felt gross, and he wasn’t even sure how long it would take to wash all of this off. Not to _mention_ his clothes and his poor, poor hat. Also, he had a concussion.

Before he could make any solid decision, his stomach lurched, and he moved to lean against the wall instead of the crying table. Avi looked worried, and took his arm, leading Johann over to the workbench to sit down.

“Here,” Avi said, pulling out a flask from the inside pocket of his uniform. “It’s, uh, ginger beer. It might help settle your stomach.”

Johann took the flask and sipped at it. His stomach lurched again, and he regretfully handed the flask back. “I think I should stick to water,” he replied, and Avi went to get him a glass, resting his hand on Johann’s shoulder and squeezing a little when he came back. Johann leaned a little into the touch, grateful when he took the glass, and sipped at it while Avi told him about what he was working on. They were transportation units for when the Bureau’s base actually went up.

“They’re officially called ‘transportation units,’” Avi said. “But Brian keeps insisting on calling them Round Bois, and honestly? I’ve started writing it into my notes. I don’t think the Director will like it though.” Johann snorted out a laugh.

It wasn’t terribly long before Davenport came back, the Director and a healer in tow. She looked first at Avi, then at Johann, then finally to the still-weeping table, and there was a look of utter exasperation on her face.

“Davenport,” she said as the healer went to examine Johann. “Please go get Maureen.”

Davenport hurried off and Avi said, “How did you know to bring a healer?”

“I speak fluent gnomish,” she said flatly and turned to Johann. “What happened?”

With a sigh, Johann told her what he had told Avi, doing whatever the healer instructed him to do. The healer cast _Cure Wounds_ , Johann’s nausea went away, and the Director sighed. “I should have a talk with Maureen about her robots. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Johann are you alright?”

Johann shrugged. “I’ve been better,” he said.

“Get some rest,” the Director said. “Avi, have you made any progress with the transportation units?”

“Oh yeah, lemme show you,” Avi said, and he squeezed Johann’s shoulder again before releasing him. The two shared a small smile before Johann took heed of the Director’s dismissal. He took up his still wet hat and took leave of them, waving to Avi before heading back to the Voidfish’s room, humming as he went, a small spring to his step.

He’d just thought of the perfect ending to his song.


	5. Magic Brian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow okay so I started this chapter four times and it took me two days of agonizing to finally get this done with. Because of this, I now have A LOT of headcanons about Brian and Maureen and how they shit-talk people together.

Brian—dubbed “Magic Brian” by his friends—was interested in an odd assortment of things.  Magic of all schools, science, robotics, biology, entomology; he dabbled in a wide variety of languages. While he mostly studied evocation, his friends joked that he was planning to become a master of all the schools of magic. All Brian had to say in reply was “Vy not, darling?”

Hence, his nickname. He was rather fond of it himself.

When he’d been offered a position at the Bureau of Balance, he had jumped at it. He had studied the Relics during the war, trying to discover their origins. Once inoculated, he remembered his research and had brought it out into the light. The Director had seemed pleased with his work ethic, wary of his excitement. Brian wasn’t terribly worried; it wasn’t like he wanted to _use_ the relic, exactly.

But _gods_ he wouldn’t mind getting his hands on the Oculus or the Phoenix-Fire Gauntlet. Just for research purposes of course.

Of _course_.

Besides, it _was_ exciting! He was a member of a secret bureau that was trying to save the world. How could he not be excited about that? There were only a couple of people who shared his enthusiasm; Avi, who was pretty chill about everything and was fun to drink with, Davenport who was an enigma in and of himself (Brian wasn’t sure Davenport had been inoculated, which was odd), and Killian.

Then, of course, the most interesting and fun person on the moon to be around, Doctor Maureen Miller. She was interested in just as many things as himself. Brian fund himself in her company often, sharing wine and talking about their various interests. He showed her his spider farm and she showed him her weird robots.

“You know,” he said one day. “ _I_ like things vith many legs. _You_ like robots. And ve _both_ like veird science.”

Maureen smiled slowly and took another sip of her wine. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, Magic Brian?”

“I think I _am_ , darling.”

* * *

There were two unofficial rules at the Bureau of Balance.

One: if you see Magic Brian and Maureen laughing, run away.

Two: if you see Magic Brian and Maureen deep in thought over some paper/metal scraps/robotics/ect., get the Director and _then_ run.

Brian would have argued with this logic, but as he looked at the latest of his and Maureen’s collaborations, he felt as if he understood. The two of them were trying not to laugh as the Director looked impassively at their robot. “So this… _robot_ ,” she said. “Is it really just… _this_?” She waved at the abomination and Brian had to dig his nails into his palm to keep from smiling.

“If by _zis_ you mean ‘a box vith tentakles and blades,’” he said. “Then… ja, ja it is.”

The Director nodded slowly, humming, not taking her eyes off of it. “Nice,” she said. Then, “How does it turn off?”

There was a beat of silence. “Gosh, is that really the time?” Maureen said suddenly. “I have to pick up Lucas from school.”

“Lucas graduated five years ago,” the Director said. Maureen crossed her arms, still grinning.

“You never know,” she said. “Maybe he was a guest speaker.” The Director gave her an unimpressed look and Maureen shrugged. “Besides, Brian can handle it, right Brian?”

“Oh ja, ja,” Brian said with a wave of his hand. Maureen gave him a grateful look and hurried out. The Director turned to him, wished him luck, and soon followed after, leaving Brian alone with the robot.

 _Alright then,_ he thought and pulled out his wand, casting _Magic Missile_ at the robot. The darts pinged off various tentacles and vanished.

No damage. And the power button hadn’t been switched off.

“Vell _shit_ ,” Brian muttered and started pacing, making sure to keep out of the tentacles’ way. He tried firing a couple of other spells at it, but nothing seemed to work. He ran his fingers through his hair, slowly coming out of its messy bun—and put his wand away.

“So,” he said to the robot. “Ve are going to do this ze _hard_ vay, hmm? So be it, _motherfucker_.”

He charged at it, dodging, flipping, tumbling out of the way of its blades.

Unfortunately, athletics and sports had never been one of Brian’s interests. He didn’t see a spare tentacle coming at him and got smacked with the—fortunately _blunt_ —force of the metal, just under the blade, and was sent flying into the back wall with a _thud_.

He groaned and got back up, trying again.

And again. And again.

Until he was bruised and bleeding and had nearly gotten his head chopped off. He sat with his back against the wall, breathing hard and glaring at the machine, grumbling under his breath until the door opened and he heard a voice say, “What… are you… doing?”

Brian turned and saw Davenport standing in the doorway. Surprised, Brian said nothing for a moment.

“Well?” Davenport said, clearly waiting for an explanation. His hands were on his hips, and he looked as if he were about to scold Brian.

“It vas Maureen’s idea!” Brian said. “And then she left me to figure out how to stop it! But,” he added, “Magic doesn’t seem to do it.”

“Hmm.” Davenport furrowed his brows, frowning a little as he turned to the robot.

“Ther is no pattern to ze tentakles, othervise I vould have figured _zat_ out.”

Davenport put a hand to his chin, thinking. “Davenport?” He said suddenly, pointing to himself.

“Vat?”

“Davenport, Davenport. Davenport?” He pointed to himself, then at the robot, then back to himself, a question in his eyes.

Brian’s eyes widened as he understood Davenport’s meaning. “ _No_! Absolutely _not_! Do you even _know_ how much trouble I vould get into if— _ven_ —you got hurt? Ze Director vould kick me off of ze moon! _Literally_!”

Davenport hummed, looking back at the machine and tilting his head.

And then he ran at the machine in a full sprint, causing Brian to nearly have a heart attack. “ _Unsere Dame Königin der Spinnen, **vat**_ ** _are you doing_**?”

Davenport weaved in and out of the tentacles, rolling and dodging better than Brian could ever hope to have done. He ran at the robot, and when it looked as if he were about to get hit, he jumped over it, and hit the power button.

He landed on the ground gently, hands on his hips, looking smug. “Davenport,” he said.

Brian stared at him, slack jawed. Then, he said, “Ver ze _fuck_ did ze Director even _Find_ you?”

Davenport blinked at him, hands falling from his hips as he frowned again. “I’m…” He frowned, face pinched with worry, the panic. “I’m- I’m _Davenport_ ,” he said, looking back at—no, just _towards_ —Brian, eyes wide and unfocused. He was hunched over himself.

“…Ja,” Brian said, nodding, a little confused. “You are Davenport. I am Magic Brian.”

Davenport swallowed and nodded. “Davenport,” he said, mostly to himself. “I’m _Davenport_.”

Brian continued to stare at the gnome, unsure of what to do. Then, slowly, he got to his feet. “Come on, Davenport,” he said, holding out a hand. “I neet to go to ze infirmary. Can you leat me zere, darling?”

Davenport blinked, eyes focusing again. He nodded once with a firm, “Davenport.” And walked over to Brian, taking his hand and leading the way. He didn’t seem to notice Brian’s staring and questioning eyes. But then, Brian thought, that was probably for the best.

“Hey,” he said, and Davenport’s ears swivled back towards him. “I von’t mention this to ze Director if you don’t either. Ja?”

Davenport hummed. “Davenport,” he said promptly.

“…I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”


	6. Lucas (And One Time she Didn't)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW QUICK WARNING: THIS CHAPTER GOT REALLY SAD  
> Maureen is dead, but her death has already happened. I added the "Major Character Death" tag just in case. This chapter has to do with Lucas grieving.  
> He finds comfort in a robot.  
> This is really sad if you listen to "Hogsbottom" from the crystal kingdom ost on repeat, trust me.

Lucas hadn’t left his bedroom in a couple of days now. He knew Lucretia would probably be worried about him, knew that he should get up, knew that he should do _something_ besides just _lie there like a complete fucking idiot_ -

His mother’s stone of farspeech hummed and he heard Lucretia’s voice coming through. _“Lucas, please respond. What exactly are you doing now?”_

Lucas didn’t reply, instead curling up into a ball under his covers. _I’m twenty-one years old,_ he thought about saying. _And you’re **still not my**_ -

His thoughts deteriorated from there, and he felt tears well up again in his eyes. No. Stop that. He wasn’t going to do that again. Enough was enough.

_“Lucas?”_

Lucas finally relented. He pushed the blankets off of him, feeling slow, and reached for the stone. “Hello?” He said and hated how teary he still sounded. He muted his stone, cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

 _“Ah, there you are,”_ Lucretia said, and it was only because had known her since he was a kid that he heard the slight change—the _relief_ —in her voice. _“How have you been?”_

He unmuted his stone. “Fine,” he said. “I’ve been working on some projects. I really don’t have time to talk right now.”

He heard a small sigh. _“Alright,”_ she said. _“But remember, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”_

Lucas swallowed—Gods his throat was dry—and picked up his glasses, pushing them up his nose. “I won’t,” he said stiffly. “But thank you. Good day to you, Madam Director.”

He turned off his stone and resisted the urge to throw it against the wall. How _dare_ she? How honestly dare she, after she had all but disconnected herself from them? Well. She’d been asking him to call her “Madam Director” for some time now, instead of Lucretia. Logically he knew it was a powerplay against the members of the Bureau—against _him_ —but he didn’t think she would have minded him calling her Lucretia this time. It wasn’t like she was calling him in public anyway.

The clock said it was nearing nine pm. He’d done nothing but lie in bed all day, and for the first time since- since his mother had died, he actually felt something akin to hunger. He tapped the light next to his bed to turn it on and avoided looking into the mirror as he grabbed his bathrobe and left the room. He knew he looked like a disaster; he _felt_ like a disaster.

…When was the last time he’d had a shower?

Regardless. Lucas trudged to the kitchen, saying little to John Cook and Daniel Butler, but accepted the plate of waffles from John and the cup of oolong from Daniel. He mumbled out a “thank you,” and went to the lab. The hugbears were nice, he thought, but he needed to be away from their optimism for a while.

He didn’t go anywhere near the Cosmoscope.

It was broken anyway.

He’d locked it up after things had gone so very terribly wrong. He also didn’t go towards his mom’s room. He’d locked that up too.

So, the robotics lab it was. The port opened and closed around him and he sat down at the workbench, pushing his waffles around. They were good, he knew. He didn’t really taste them, or the tea.

**“Are you oka- a- aaay?”**

Lucas yelped in alarm and almost fell out of his chair to face a small-ish robot standing next to him. Its face was a screen, glitching somewhat. Lucas had never seen it before, but just as all robots around the lab, this one used his mom’s voice for recording. His mom really did enjoy recording lines for robots too much.

“…What?” He said.

 **“Are you o- o- oookay?”** The robot said. And then, **“Hold on one- one- one moment! _Scanning_ …”**

A scanner came out and Lucas covered his face. “What the heck? Stop!”

 **“Symptoms are ba- ba- baaack!”** The robot said cheerily. The screen glitched and changed, a picture of himself showing up. Below that, it said,

**Name: MY BABY-BOY**

**Age: 21**

**Status: SAD SACK**

Lucas stared at the screen, peering over his glasses. “What in the _actual fuck_ ,” he said.

 **“You are a SAD SACK,”** the robot told him. **“Cause: _Bzkt_!”** The robot glitched again and the screen went dim. Lucas continued to stare, unsure of what to do. Had his… mother made this? The robot came back to life, two eyes appearing on the screen.

**“Hello! My name is [INSERT NAME HERE]! Your personal medic!”**

Lucas waited, but the robot said nothing else. “What the _actual fuck_ , Mom?” He muttered to himself, sliding off the chair onto his knees to get a closer look at the robot. It scanned him again.

 **“Are you a SAD SACK?”** The robot said and lifted a hand to poke at his cheek. He snorted, rubbing at the spot.

“Yeah, fine, I guess I’m a sad sack,” he said.

 **“MY BABY-BOY is a SAD SACK! Please hold on a moment!”** The robot said, and a moment later a slot in its chest open, dispensing a tissue and a little bag of animal cookies. **“Please take!”**

There was a beat of stunned silence, then Lucas threw back his head and _howled_ with laughter. It echoed off the walls and all around. He laughed and laughed until there were tears running down his face, until he was crying and _Godsdammit, Mom, why did you have to make another shitty robot and not de-activate it?_

The robot had taken the tissue from its own chest and was attempting to wipe his tears, saying, **“There-There MY BABY-BOY, there- there- there- there- there- there MY B- B- BAAAABY-BOY. It’s going to be o- o- o- okay!”**

Lucas picked up the robot and hugged it. It didn’t feel like his mom’s hugs. It wasn’t warm or soft, and there was no hand stroking back his hair. The voice wasn’t quiet. It glitched and was loud and absurdly optimistic.

But it was definitely her voice.

The robot eventually glitched out and stopped talking. Lucas continued to hold it until his tears subsided some, then gently put it back on the ground. Sniffing, he took off his glasses, wiped his eyes, wiped his glasses off. He got off the floor and perched on the edge of his chair, ignoring his now-cold waffles and tea. The lab was quiet again.

He had an idea. It wasn’t a good idea, not really. But it was… certainly an idea.

Lucas got up, re-tying his robe. He left the lab, wove through the corridors of the lab until he reached the port to the Cosmoscope. It was locked, but he pressed his hand to the pad, spoke his name, and it clicked open.

He hadn’t been in there for a while now, but that was okay. It was safe, he thought. The mirrors had been smashed or cracked. Harmless crystal. He wondered where his mom had gotten such perfect circles of crystal, when he saw it.

Or, rather, he _heard_ it first.

 _It_ was _calling_ to him.

 _It_ was on the workbench behind the mirrors, along with several notebooks and journals and binders and loose-leaf papers. Lucas knew what this object was, this smooth river-stone that looked harmless enough. He knew exactly what it was via the descriptions Lucretia had given him, the warnings his mom had told him.

This could only be the Philosopher’s Stone. He walked towards it cautiously, even as it said, _“What do you want, Lucas? Don’t you want something? You can have anything your heart desires, I can make_ anything _for you. All you have to do is-”_

Lucas shook his head, finding that his hand was already reaching out for _It_. He picked up one of the journals instead. He was surprised for a moment to find that the notes weren’t in his mom’s blocky, messy scrawl. This handwriting—while still messy—jerked and flowed oddly. He flipped to the front and glanced at the name, his brow furrowing when he read _M. Brian; the Black Spider_.

Magic Brian? He’d been dead for a while now. He knew that Brian had had a lab here on the base, the one he and his mother would retreat into whenever he came around. They did a lot of weird science; Lucas always went planetside when Brian came to visit. Lucas didn’t like him very much.

But, he thought as he glanced back at the Stone, this made sense. Brian was a Seeker. He’d been focusing n the Gauntlet, sure, but… Well, Lucas knew his mother was smart. She must have found it.

Why hadn’t his mom told him?

…Why hadn’t she told _Lucretia_?

Lucas pushed his glasses up his nose, putting down the journal and looking through the notes until he had separated his mom’s work from Brian’s. He ignored the Stone’s whispering and sat, reading his mom’s notes. She was going to give the Stone to Lucretia once she was done with the Cosmoscope.

Lucas turned to look at the mirrors behind him. The Cosmoscope was broken. Some of the crystals had been completely shattered. It wasn’t _finished_ , his mom’s work wasn’t completed. Not yet. Lucas turned back to the notes, then looked at the Stone.

He should _really_ call Lucretia.

Instead, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, leaning away from the table. He wouldn’t make a decision tonight. He would take a shower, bring his plate of cold waffles back to the kitchen. Drink some water.

Lucas got up and went back to the port, but before he left, he turned and looked back, just once last time. And if Lucas Miller were really truly honest with himself, he knew that he had already made his decision.

It was time to get to work and build some damn robots.


End file.
